


Carolina Heat

by posingasme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Between Hunts, Gen, Guilt, Hunterverse, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-02 13:44:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16306277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: Sam has his brother and his lover, and he has embraced the hunting life. Their lives are dangerous and strange, but he is content in it. If only that brother and that lover could stop bickering, he might even call himself happy.





	1. Patch Job

Sam and Dean were busy licking their wounds in a greasy motel in a rural South Carolina town which had become victim to a vampire nest.

"Redneck vamps," Dean groaned as he felt Sam pull the needle and thread through the back of his thigh.

"Says the guy from Lawrence, Kansas."

"I ain't a redneck. Dammit, Sammy! Watch what you're doing."

Sam cleared his throat. He probably didn't need to watch what he was doing, and that was the most disturbing thing to cross his mind in a long time. "I could stitch up your gore with my eyes closed. Our lives suck, man."

"Beats working in a cubicle. God damn, that hurts!"

"It's right in the nerve center behind your knee. Suck it up, and be glad it wasn't the femoral artery."

"Should have sent your ass to Stanford as pre-med. What the hell were you thinking taking law?"

He had to unclench his jaw to respond. "I was thinking I was done with all this. That my days of stitching my brother's guts back in were over."

Dean huffed. "Like that day's ever going to come."

"I know that now. I was young and stupid then."

"What are you now?"

"Older and stupid. Hold still, jackass. You know you're not going to be able to put weight on this for a day or two, right? You'll rip out the stitches and get yourself infected."

His brother grunted. "That's what holy water is for."

Sam gave him a look that he hoped expressed exactly how done with Dean he was right now. "That's not what holy water is for. Have you been treating wounds with holy water thinking it sterilized them?"

There was a hesitation that made his hazel eyes roll. "No. Of course not. That's stupid."

"Yeah," he sighed. "It is. Germs aren't demons. And holy water isn't anti-microbial."

"You think demons could possess viruses? Maybe that was part of the Croatoan thing a few years back. That'd be screwed up."

Sam was about to make a sarcastic comment, but then he looked at his brother with disgust. "That's actually terrifying."

"Right?"

Sam sighed. "Doesn't matter how old I get and how many things I see. My big brother will always be able to give me new nightmares to keep me cold at night."

Dean turned to wink at him.

"You're done. Don't move though. I'm serious about not putting weight on it. If you're not going to let me take you to the hospital and you won't call for a celestial med kit, you're going to need to hole up for a few days. Pre-law dropout's orders."

Dean startled strangely.

"What? Something hurt?"

"Everything hurts," the man mumbled. But he squinted at Sam. "Never thought about it that way before."

"About what?"

"That word. You left Stanford. You walked away. I pulled you away. Never really thought about you dropping out. Being...a dropout."

"It's the same thing, dude. It was November. Not exactly graduation."

Dean's head ducked a little. "No, I know. It's just...Maybe we've even said it before, I don't know. But I never really thought of it. Dropout. That's what I am, man."

"So?"

He shrugged, then cringed.

Sam winced with him. "Easy. I just put that shoulder back in."

"Whatever. I'm just...If I haven't said it enough, I'm sorry you didn't get to do what you wanted."

He snorted at that, but smiled. "Dean, what did you say that time about driving down crazy street together? It's not what I wanted then, but it's what I want now. It's where we belong. I'm done trying to run from it. I promise."

Dean nodded, and Sam was certain he was trying not to look pleased and relieved. "You'd be so out of shape by now. You'd be completely useless."

Sam dropped his elbow between Dean's shoulder blades, and enjoyed the surprised yelp coming from his brother. "Whatever. I wasn't as rusty as you thought I was. Maybe not at my peak, but I wasn't entirely out of the game, you know."

It gave him a strange sense of satisfaction when he saw the look of confusion on Dean's face. He smirked, then tossed the bag full of gauze and thread at his patient as he got up to fall into his own bed.

He knew Dean couldn't comfortably turn onto his back, so he turned on his own side to face him. "I kept up with my training at school." Memories were flooding back, and for the first time in a very long time, he found himself thinking fondly on his college days. The longing for freedom and normality had faded, the anger with Brady's demon, with Dean for coming for one last hunt, with John for disappearing, the hurt of all of it had softened to a wistful nostalgia that he could enjoy rather than push from his surface thoughts.

"What do you mean? Hitting the gym isn't training."

"I hit the gym," he confirmed. "But I also hit the library. I kept honing my tech skills, read up on lore as much as I could. Didn't have much time, with all my classes, but whenever I had to do a research paper, I tried to somehow make it something that might help in a hunt one day. Took Latin on top of Spanish. I wanted to be ready if you and Dad ever called me up because you were stumped on a case."

A slow smile was taking over Dean's face. "Really."

"Really. I didn't figure Dad would call. Stubborn old man would have gotten torn to pieces before he'd call me for an ancient exorcism or something, but I thought you might need me one day, and you wouldn't be too hard-headed to call if it got bad enough."

"Huh." Dean was quiet for a moment, then he looked over at his brother again. "Tell me more. Sammy's Stanford Storytime. Should be boring enough to help me sleep off the blood loss."

Sam snickered. But he lay back with his arms crossed behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. "I ran every day, no matter what else was going on. I wrote this one paper for a history class on the burial practices of various cultures, and it was so meticulously detailed that the professor called me in to ask if I was just a great researcher or was there something he should know about my fascination with dead folks."

The older man snorted out his laughter, flinching as he disrupted his wounds.

"Especially the part about how coffins were made. He said I had a tone to my writing about that."

"What's that mean?"

Sam laughed. "Apparently I sounded irritated that coffins had become more secure over the decades."

"Sure, because proper graves and coffins are harder to break into when you need to burn remains."

He nodded. "Exactly. Give me a seventeenth century dig any day. Practically nothing left! But then the rich folks in the Victorian times? Pain in my ass to get to their bones."

"Of course, there's more cremation now," Dean mused.

"Sure, which prevents a lot of hauntings, but the ones that we do come across, then we have to figure out what they're tied to, and that's a damn pain."

"I got you. Still think everybody should be cremated. Except folks like Rufus. Bobby said the hunter's funeral went against his religion. But seems to me all that liquor, lying and shooting folks probably did too."

"He didn't shoot random humans, Dean."

"Pizza. Now."

Sam pushed himself to sit. "Screw you. You know the rules. You order and I get the door. More injured has to make the call."

Dean did know the rules. He had made them. So he glared at his brother. "Fine. Get me the phone and whatever card we're using this week."

He would have just ordered online himself, but he got up to retrieve the items requested, and tossed them at Dean. "Remember telling me that was the rule?"

"What? That worst one hurt calls for delivery? I don't know."

Sam remembered. It was on a hunt when he had been mauled by a werewolf, and Dean had thought he was going to lose him. He had called John, but he was too far to reach them till the next morning, even if he drove all night. Sam was seventeen, and all he could think about was that he was going to die before getting away. That he would never know what safe felt like.

"It was the werewolf took me out near Omaha. While we were camped out waiting for Dad to get back wherever he was. Thing started terrorizing the locals, and we figured we would take care of it before Dad got back."

"We did."

"Yeah. And I nearly got my heart ripped out. Remember?"

"Yeah," he said quietly. "You were in bad shape."

"And you were an ass."

Dean smiled up at him. "Was I? That doesn't sound like me."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Right. You told me if I died, you'd tell Dad about the time I was supposed to be training with Caleb at the firing range and went out with that girl Heather instead. Like you could scare me into not dying."

His brother smirked at him. "Must have worked. Yeah, and when you said you were hungry, I was so relieved because it meant you weren't going to die, and I suddenly realized I hadn't sewn up all my own holes yet. So I told you the one dumb enough to get himself hurt worst in a hunt had to call for delivery. Like it was a punishment for slipping up and getting yourself hurt. When it was really just to get your mind focused on something while I stitched myself up."

"You mean there was a reason outside of just being a jackass?" Sam teased, as if this were news to him.

Dean scoffed. But a flutter of wings pulled his attention away. "Hey, there's the celestial med kit."

The angel stared at him. "Celestial what?"

Sam felt his face heat. He stumbled to his feet again. "Cas!"

Castiel looked at Sam expectantly.

He laughed awkwardly. "Uh..."

"Celestial med kit," Dean repeated. "Come heal my ass up so we can get back on the road."

"Dean!" Sam coughed.

"It's all right, Sam. Dean has never pretended to have any appreciation for my help."

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Appreciation? Well, excuse me, your majesty. Half the times you've healed me, it was you that had just kicked the crap out of me. And at least once because you loused up a devil's trap. Oh, but we can't count that, can we? You never actually healed me when Alistair played knick knack on my bones. Nice work visiting me in the hospital though."

The younger hunter watched as Castiel dropped his gaze.

"Dean, I've told you, just as I told your brother. I was not permitted to heal you unless your life-"

"Bullshit, Cas. Permitted to? Since when did we care about permitted to?"

The icy blue eyes flicked back up in irritation. "I did, back when I thought my Father was giving orders. Years ago. A long time to you, perhaps, but a blink ago in my lifespan."

Sam sighed. "Are you two going to settle this eventually? Or are you going to continue to dredge up the past until you're tempted to kill each other?"

Like the mature family patriarch he was, Dean flipped him off.

"Classy. Cas?"

"I'm perfectly content to let bygones be, if he is. But he isn't. Each time I believe we have ascended to a region of mutual respect and trust, he finds an excuse to bring up my past transgressions. And that only serves to remind me of his," he added with a look of conceit on his handsome features.

A defeated sigh emitted from Sam's chest. "You know what? I've had it. Just wail on each other already. Get it all out. Whoever comes out alive, I'll hunt with him. If neither of you do, I'll go hang out with Jody."

The look Dean gave him would have made him laugh if he weren't so serious about being finished with their pettiness. Not that the events they were referencing were petty. Of course they weren't. But the way they were sniping at one another was exhausting him.

"Look, I'm ordering a pizza or four. You want in, Cas?"

The angel frowned. "Why would I want that?"

Dean turned to throw his hands up, and obviously regretted it immediately. But rather than acknowledge his pain, he glared. "It's called an olive branch, you ingrate. Breaking bread? Any of the damn biblical metaphors working for you, you overgrown pigeon?"

Castiel smacked his hand down on the top of Dean's head violently. Before the hunter could react, his grace had healed his injuries. "There's your olive branch, Dean. As if you would even know where the symbol originated."

"I don't need to know crap like that. It's why I've got him," he responded while he reached to stretch above his head, and let his joints crack. "But for the record, it was Noah's pet bird who found the olive branch and brought it back as a sign that God was done smiting crap."

"A dove, in fact. A pigeon is a type of dove, you know. Uriel's work had been done, yes. But humans took that olive branch and saw what they wanted to see. A clean world. That's what you people remember, like it was something to celebrate. You don't know what that week was like after the water receded. Rotten, half-eaten bodies everywhere. The stench was...overwhelming. My garrison was among those tasked with helping the reapers and the scavengers dispense with the souls and flesh. It was Hell. Just hearing the phrase olive branch reminds me of the smell."

Sam saw Dean's face turning gray, and he suspected his own was too. Sometimes they forgot just how much Castiel had seen before them. "Well," Dean sighed, "my appetite is ruined."

Castiel raised an eyebrow in skepticism. "No, it isn't."

"No, it isn't," Dean agreed. "But it's still gross. So no more talk of rotting people till after dinner." He shoved himself off the bed. "Cas, unless you want the full view, you mind backing off?"

The angel stepped away awkwardly. "My apologies."

The green eyes rolled, and Dean grabbed his least bloody jeans from his bag to put over his boxers. He fished out a tee shirt too while muttering about laundry day. "Sorry Cas messed up your needlepoint, Francis. That makes you the most injured in the room. So you want to call or are we going out?" Then he looked at Castiel and seemed to remember something. "Thanks for the heal, man. Really. Sam was going to make me lie there for two days."

Castiel gave the younger brother the ghost of a smile. "Then I've saved him, haven't I? From two days of your whining."

"This is why I don't thank him," Dean pointed out. "He's a bitch about it. Tell you what, Sammy. I'm taking my healed ass out to that pub we found, and I'm going to hang out with someone prettier than the two of you. Enjoy your night. I'll text if I'm coming back to the room tonight. Otherwise, don't wait up." He winked, as if there were some possible way they might have misinterpreted his meaning. Then he pulled his jacket on and slipped out the door.

Castiel sighed. "Sam-"

Sam's hand went up. "Wait."

The door opened again and Dean stepped back in. "Damn it's hot in the Carolinas!" He tossed his jacket onto his bed and slammed the door behind him again.

The angel glanced at Sam.

He smirked and shook his head. "Wait," he repeated.

Castiel looked back at the door curiously.

It swung open again. "God dammit, were you going to say anything?"

"Obviously not."

Dean pulled his boots on, swearing under his breath.

The angel stared at him. "Dean, perhaps you shouldn't drink tonight. You've suffered a concussion, and though I healed it, I think-"

"Shut up, Cas."

The door slammed a third time.

Sam laughed. "Okay. That should be it."

"I sometimes wonder how he's lived as long as he has."

"You and me both." Sam shrugged. "He's got a kind of peculiar brain, Cas. He's either laser focused on something, or he's a freaking human squirrel."

"Is that why Crowley-"

Sam's hand went up again. "Don't even start. Anyway, yeah, special kind of brain. And it's been knocked into his skull more times than we could probably count."

"Thirteen."

"What?"

Castiel cleared his throat. "He's had thirteen concussions, including the one today. Most were minor, and the damage caused by them was minimized by the fact that he is an archangel's vessel. And because he keeps being resurrected."

"How do you...You know what? Dean's out for the night. Let's not spend ours talking about him."

At last, a true smile came to Castiel's face. "Yes. May I kiss you, Sam?"

"Please."

It was the angel's ritual, nearly every time. Asking for consent to kiss Sam with the same reverence as if he were asking for use of his vessel, the reverence Michael and Lucifer had never shown, though they pretended.

Castiel approached him from across the room, pulling the large man into his strong arms. He pressed their lips together softly, then stepped back as Sam reached for more.

"Cas?"

"Sam, do you mind if we simply touch tonight? Talk? Just let me hold you?"

He smiled at him. "Of course, Cas. Come on. I'm going to order food, then we can just lounge around the whole night. Sound good?"

His angel heaved a sigh. "Yes, Sam. That sounds better than good."

The pizza arrived in twenty minutes. Castiel handed over the currency while Sam took the food. "Thanks," he called.

"Have a good night, ya'll."

Sam glanced up and gave the young man a smile. "You too, buddy."

Castiel nodded absently.

As the door closed, Sam laughed quietly. "Dean can talk about redneck vamps all he wants. But most of the folks in the Carolinas who aren't bloodsuckers are just good people."

"Most people are good people, Sam. Regardless of where they are. You two just tend to see everyone at their worst."

Sam's hand stilled on its way to his water bottle. "Wow. That's...Yeah," he shrugged. "I guess that's probably true. We rarely talk to anybody who isn't grieving, panicking, or trying to kill someone."

"Now imagine you aren't accustomed to speaking to anyone with human vocal cords. Imagine you observed and awaited the coming of prophets and the end days, and suddenly you were a key player in bringing about the Apocalypse, and then you got an itch in the back of your mind that something was very, very wrong. Imagine you know most humans are good, simple things, and then you meet up with the two most complicated men on the planet, whose sole jobs were to train their vessels to be used by the most powerful of all angels, but they didn't want to do it. You know most people are good, but you don't know just how corrupt angels can be, and you've spent too much time thinking the best about people, only to find out that your own people are the real threats."

Sam took his hand. "Cas, I haven't heard you like this in a long time. I don't know what brought this on."

Castiel shook his head. "I don't know either. I'm in a mood, I suppose. Hannah is managing Heaven beautifully, like she was made for it, and I told her so, and she said it was just because I and the Winchesters had spent so much time and blood weeding out the corruption within our ranks, including the archangels, Zachariah, Naomi, and then Metatron, Bartholomew...Then we learn that the Grigori are still active, that it was yet another thing we had been lied to about...I'm so tired of learning that angels continue to fail our human charges time and again."

"Cas, you didn't fail anyone."

"That isn't true and you know it. Perhaps it would be better if we were simply celestial medical kits, as Dean said."

"Dean's an idiot. But...I was the one who said that. I'm sorry. I was trying to make a point about Dean not being willing to accept help from anyone but me."

He nodded slowly, staring past Sam at something neither of them could see. "I don't want to think about all this anymore today. Can we just rest?"

"Yeah. You want to watch something?"

Castiel smiled with weariness. "I like television."

Sam laughed gently. "I know you do."

"Eat, Sam. Be comfortable. I'm going to find something to enjoy. Perhaps something...about space?"

"Sure. Maybe we can find Neil deGrasse Tyson doing his thing on there somewhere. I'm going to put away a few slices, then I'll be right there."

Castiel looked up suddenly. "Are you injured, Sam?"

"No more than usual. I took a quick shower between setting Dean's shoulder and sewing him up. He didn't look like he was going to pass out. He's had worse."

"I'm asking about you."

"Oh." He had gotten sidetracked. "No, just a few bumps and bruises. No big deal. Mostly achy. No need for the laying on hands show."

His angel nodded and sat on the edge of Sam's bed with the remote control. As he flipped through the channels, his shoulders released some of their tension. Sam munched lazily as he watched his angel begin to relax. He found it interesting that Castiel held his stress in his shoulders the way a human would. When he had eaten enough, he moved to the edge of the bed, and put up his hand when Castiel began to move to make room for him.

"No, just sit," he commanded. He knelt on the floor, and began taking off Castiel's shoes and socks.

The angel was watching him with a tilted head. "Sam, what are you doing?"

"Hush. Just watch your show."

"That may be difficult," Castiel remarked in amusement, placing his free hand deep into Sam's hair.

"You'll manage." He began to rub the feet gently. Sam didn't have a fascination of any kind, but he had often thought it would be nice to do this for someone. It had not occurred to him that Castiel might enjoy it.

Clearly, he did. "Sam," he grunted in surprise. "What are you doing?"

The man smiled to himself. "Relaxing us," he said. "Want to lose the coat and jacket?"

He nodded a little breathlessly. "Yes. I'd forgotten it."

As Castiel squirmed out of his overclothes, Sam continued pressing his fingers into Castiel's feet, and smiled as he realized there was no scent or sweat at all. Perhaps that was why he had never done this for someone before. Feet were not the sexiest parts of a body, but this was something he had always thought would be one of those lovely little intimacies that he wasn't meant to have in this life. He figured that it was one of those things real couples did, something real people did, when they wanted to show affection.

Sam wasn't a real person, and he and Castiel were hardly a real couple. But maybe this was something he could have anyway. Maybe Hell wouldn't take over the planet because he was distracted giving an angel a foot rub. Maybe this indulgence was all right. So few were. It was getting hard to tell.

"Sam, that's strangely pleasing."

He chuckled. If he had ever enjoyed a woman's soft, sensuous moan and sweet, seductive pillow talk, he couldn't remember anymore. Castiel's formal, bluntly spoken appreciation was all he craved now. There was never a need to wonder with Castiel. Women were complex in their compliments. He was always left wondering if they truly meant what they said or if he were being manipulated somehow. The possibility that it could, in fact, be both frustrated him to no end.

Castiel left no doubts.

"I'm glad, Cas. Haven't you ever rubbed your own foot?"

The blue stare blinked at him. "No. Why would I think to do that?" Then he frowned. "No...perhaps when I was human. When I had walked a great distance, perhaps I...But it was not like this."

Sam felt Castiel's hand begin scratching lightly at his scalp, and he leaned against the angel's other leg. He was content. When he was younger, he had thought the goals of life were happiness, freedom, being useful. Now that he was older, he knew the truth.

The goal of life was to reach contentment. And Sam was there.

"You need to stop fighting with my brother," he murmured. It was the last thing keeping him from utter contentment.

"I apologize, Sam. I will try harder in the future to be patient."

He sighed. "What's it all about, anyway? You two are best friends. Other me and Bobby, you're the only non-fanged thing he's ever had for a friend. So?"

"Can we talk about anything else, Sam? I so rarely get time with you."

It was a means of ending the conversation, but Sam let it go for now. "You like your time with me, Castiel?"

The fingers in his hair stopped moving. He looked up to find his angel staring at him. "Have I somehow been unclear about that?"

Sam laughed quietly and snuggled back into his leg, moving his hands to the other foot. "No. It's just nice to hear."

"Oh." Castiel was quiet for a long time, and Sam's hands gradually stilled. He let his head rest on the inside of Castiel's thigh while sitting on the floor between his knees.

His eyes had closed a few minutes before when Castiel finally spoke again.

"Sam, you are the brightest light in my life. You're the only thing I've ever needed to be happy. And if it weren't for you and your brother, I never would have even realized I wasn't happy. I would have continued without ever having understood what happy is, and that it was something I could have."

Sam held tighter to Castiel. Contentment. It felt like this.

***

Dean regretted what he had said. He suspected the stubborn angel did too. But they were too proud to apologize. It wasn’t something which could be forgotten. Dean just hoped it could be forgiven. 

Each day that passed since that fight between them made their friendship more strained. And it was stupid, but neither of them could seem to shuffle it off like any other dumb argument they had ever had between them. This wasn’t just a matter of irritating one another, nor just of disagreement. 

They had cut one another deeply, and shamed each other about the one thing in the world that was worth something, the thing that was worth everything. The thing they each loved more fiercely than anything else in the universe. 

“You never consider Sam’s safety, nor even his feelings!” Castiel had shouted. “You have never been able to keep him safe. You throw him into danger at every turn, you make all his decisions for him, and then when he gets hurt, you are always at a loss to help him! Perhaps if he left angry, it is because he is finished being used as a tool in your trunk, just as your father used you!”

Heat had filled Dean. He was so livid that his vision was whiting out. “You have no right to talk to me about my dad. You have no right. And as for Sam? You got some kind of stones telling me I can’t keep him safe. I died and went to Hell to keep him safe, you son of a bitch! All I ever think about is keeping him safe!”

But Castiel did not back down. “You hurt him and you allow others to hurt him too. That isn’t keeping him safe-“

“Allow? I allow others to-I nearly died saving his ass from those-“

“He tried to talk to you, and you shut him down, like you always do! He needed a day or two to rest, to get his head back after that encounter! It shook him badly, and you didn’t even notice!”

Dean growled audibly. “Some of the shit we deal with, Cas, it hurts, and it hurts bad. And the best thing to do is to move on to the next job. I know what my brother needs, even if it ain’t what he wants.”

Castiel scoffed, but Dean ignored it. 

“He’s pissed right now, but when he comes back, he’s going to want to know where we are going next, because it’s not the jobs that burn out a hunter, it’s the time spent thinking of the ones we didn’t get to in time. Sammy thinks himself to death between hunts, just like I drink myself to death. We gotta keep moving and he knows it.” He pushed forward until he was shouting right into Castiel’s face. “Don’t you ever tell me I’m using my brother like a tool in my trunk. The only tool I see is the one standing here acting like he’s never been the one to hurt Sam! The worst that kid’s ever been hurt and didn’t die was when you broke Death’s wall! You bastard! Don’t you ever talk to me about my brother not being safe because of me. He’s never been safe with you!”

It was Castiel’s turn to walk out and slam the door behind him. That was happening to Dean a lot lately. 

Now, sitting on a barstool, ignoring the pretty blond who kept giving him openings, he couldn’t help turning the argument over and over in his mind. He shouldn’t have said that crap to Castiel. But Castiel had no right to say what he had either. So each of them were in a strange balance of hurt, regret and embarrassment, so they each pretended to still be angry instead. Stupid, maybe, but par for the course between them. 

Dean had felt Castiel’s words at his deepest level. It was probably the raw emotions from the bad hunt, where they killed the monster, but only after that kid had...Anyway, it was no wonder that tempers were running high, and things were said without enough thought. Sam had returned a few hours later, with a newspaper article that had led them to the Carolinas. Dean was right. They needed work. 

They needed a win. 

Now they had won, so why did Dean still feel like it was wrong to celebrate?


	2. Malcontent

Castiel’s insistence that they simply rest tonight did not hold beyond the first hour. Sam was smirking smugly while listening to Castiel’s little sounds of desire. He considered reminding his angel that they were just going to “touch and talk” this time, but he would have regretted it if his conceit had backfired. He wanted Castiel.

There was really never a moment when he didn’t want Castiel. In spite of a lifetime spent admiring women almost exclusively, and despite many wonderful experiences in bed with women in his adulthood, Sam was entirely in love with Castiel’s body.

“It’s...it’s all you, right?” he had asked somewhat awkwardly.

Castiel had tipped his head in that curious way. “All...me?”

“The-the body. It’s...you. I mean, Novak’s checked out, right?”

His would-be lover had given him a grimacing smile. “Ah. Yes. Jimmy’s soul is in his heaven now. This is no longer really a vessel for me, Sam. Since I’ve been human, or as near as any angel before me, the body truly belongs to me. And therefore, I’m free to offer it to you.”

Sam had sighed with relief, nearly sobbed with it. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he breathed. “I was really, really hoping you would say that.”

They had experimented with various ways of making love, and while there were some Sam preferred over others, he had yet to be sorry about anything they had tried. It seemed that so long as it was Castiel, it worked for Sam.

Tonight, Castiel was breathing shallowly, awaiting Sam’s push with avidity. His deep voice beckoned Sam, and his heat welcomed him. Castiel’s blue gaze, over his shoulder, urged him forward. That look drained all sense from Sam every time. His angel never hid how much he craved him. It flushed Sam’s whole body and mind with pure want, and any intelligent thought was chased away.

Sam let his own gaze paint over Castiel’s strong back, let his fingers brush down the soft skin over hard muscle. Burying himself deep inside his lover was like no other pleasure in the world. He held himself steady against Castiel for an instant, just let them both feel the way they fit together. When the heat became overwhelming, he began to move, slowly, like a dance, to the music of his lover’s sighs.

Contentment. It was letting the pain of the world wash away, letting waves of simple pleasure throb through them. It was knowing that Castiel was able to taste his love transferring through his kisses, feel it strumming through his pulse. Contentment was feeling Castiel’s body give way for him, holding him safe and hot. It was in Castiel’s strength, in his vulnerability, in his desire, in his unwavering trust.

Trust was such a strange thing for creatures like them.

Sam kept his hand gentle as he touched the warmth of the back of Castiel’s neck, as he pushed ever deeper into his lover. For his part, Castiel breathed thickly, braced himself with one hand against the wall above the headboard, and let his chin dip down to his chest. When he did that, Sam always felt a dizzy euphoria. A sort of giddy, blissful dissociated part of his mind watched Castiel giving himself over to his pleasure, and ached to make love to him, as though Sam were not already doing just that. This little piece of Sam, it seemed, would never quite be able to believe that he was truly in this position, truly permitted access to Castiel’s body and heart in this way. It looked upon the angel with the same desperate desire from years ago, when this was all just a fantasy Sam indulged in while at his loneliest, instead of the fulfillment of those fantasies beyond anything he had ever thought possible.

Large hands took gentle hold of Castiel, one at his hip and the other around his front, more of a caress than a grasp. With a soft moan, Sam poured himself into his angel, let his eyes slip closed, let his lips part to hiss out his lover’s name voicelessly. He was rewarded with Castiel’s own fierce heat tightening around him, while divine warmth streamed over his hand.

As he reluctantly separated them, he shivered happily in the cool grace Castiel expended to cleanse them both. That would never get old, neither the tingling sensation tickling his sensitive skin, nor the bypassing of the inevitable chore requiring them to move out of one another’s arms.

“Thank you,” he murmured over his shoulder as he lay heavy on his side.

Castiel curled protectively around his lover, and whispered into his hair. “Thank you,” he replied.

He smiled. It was safe to risk teasing now. “Thought you weren’t up for it tonight.”

His angel hummed his amusement. “So did I. But you kept losing layers, and I know what’s beneath them, and I cannot help myself.”

“I love you.”

“And I love you. And isn’t that amazing?”

Sam laughed at the awe in Castiel’s voice. “Yeah?”

“No, really. I’ve tried to calculate the probability of the two of us becoming what we are to one another, and it’s cosmically, tragically unlikely.”

“We’re all about beating the odds, Cas.”

This produced another hum, this one thoughtful. “I’m grateful we’ve gotten so good at it.”

The hunter lifted his head when he felt Castiel shift, then lay it on the angel’s arm. In any other relationship, Sam would have been the one to envelop his lover in strong arms, to wrap himself around the other’s body as if to shield it from the world. But he and Castiel had fallen into this pattern naturally, and on the few occasions he had found himself reversing their positions, Castiel had silently refused. It seemed his lover was a stubbornly protective outer spoon, and Sam was strangely content with that.

Content.

“Cas?” he mumbled.

“Yes, Sam.”

“Are you content? With me, with our lives. I mean, I know you love me.” Even if part of him was still in a permanent state of shock and disbelief, the rest of him did know it. Castiel left no doubt. “But do you feel content?”

There was a tiny hesitation, just a stutter of time, before the response. “Of course, Sam. There is sincerely nothing more I could want.”

But the pause had been there. Sam had heard it. He believed Castiel’s words, but somehow that wasn’t as reassuring as it should have been. He took a breath to gather his thoughts. Then he asked, “What is it, then? You’re happy with the way things are. But you’re not happy.” For Sam, those were the same things. It didn’t sound that way for Castiel.

This hesitation was borne of Castiel’s inability to phrase his words, and in that way, he reminded Sam of Dean. Dean could fire off bruising wit in an argument, or angry accusations, and he could even string together a heart-wrenching soliloquy about his devotion to his brother and their work under extreme circumstances, usually exactly when Sam needed to hear it. But when it came to expressing hurt, Dean could never seem to get the words to flow the right way.

“You don’t have to talk now if you don’t want. It’s okay.”

Castiel had a smile in his voice. “No it isn’t. I’ve made you anxious. I apologize.”

“It’s okay, man. I get it.”

A soft, breathy chuckle ruffled his hair. “I love you, Sam. So much. I’m happy, belovéd. I promise. I just can’t help thinking back on…”

He waited, then pushed forward. “On what, Cas?”

“On...on all the times I’ve failed you.”

Sam frowned. This was one of the last things he had expected to hear. But maybe it shouldn’t have been. Castiel had been dwelling in the past for many days now, ever since the brothers had finished that horrible hunt in Arkansas. Castiel had been busy, but every chance he got to check in, Sam had sensed that tension he couldn’t account for.

And that was around the time the angel and his brother had begun sniping at one another in earnest. Around the time Sam had stormed out of yet another hotel room, demanding space from the man he had grown up with, to clear his head, leaving the two of them alone.

“Cas? Back outside Little Rock. When I left that night, did you and Dean have a fight you didn’t tell me about?”

When the angel didn’t respond right away, he turned to face him, and found the blue eyes lowered.

“You did. Why wouldn’t you tell me? And what could possibly have been so awful that you two still haven’t settled it almost ten days later?”

Castiel’s pink tongue darted out to wet his lips. It was a nervous habit which only made Sam more concerned. “We were both...tired. And I think we each underestimated the amount of stress and emotional turmoil the other was under.”

Sam sat up. “What happened?”

Castiel sighed and sat too. He looked intently into his own hands in his lap. “Details don’t matter. In fact, none of it truly does. I’ve been trying to think of how to properly apologize to Dean since the minute it was over.”

“But what-“

“Please, Sam. Just...just let it be. I’ll handle it. Dean enjoys being told he was right,” he said sourly. “I’m sure it will be fine after that.”

He couldn’t let this go. Castiel and Dean were best friends, and they were the most important people in Sam’s life. If they had really hurt one another this time, he couldn’t just let that stand without even trying to help. “What was he right about, Cas? And what are you apologizing for?”

The angel managed to look like a sulking toddler and an exasperated parent at the same time. It was impressive. “You aren’t going to sleep, are you?”

“Look, you don’t have to tell me. But I want to know.”

The cringe made it clear that Castiel understood that not talking about it was not truly an option. “I said some things I shouldn’t have said to him, and he responded with things I wish he hadn’t. It isn’t really anything we haven’t hinted at before. But somehow it seemed insurmountable this time. I can’t say why.”

“What did you say?”

The gaze dropped again. “I was angry with the way he had brushed off your desire for time alone. I accused him of making your decisions for you, which he often does, but then I followed with the accusation that he...that he uses you like a tool in his trunk the way his father once used him.”

Sam winced sharply. “You said that?”

“And I condemned him for his inability to keep you safe.”

An odd expression came over Sam’s face now. But he nodded slowly. “And what did he say?”

“That I’ve no right to say these things, especially since no one has ever hurt you so badly as I have myself. That I cannot say Dean fails to keep you safe when...when you’ve never been safe with me.”

Anger rumbled in Sam’s heart. “What did you say to that?”

“Nothing. I walked away, just as you did. I couldn’t face him while those words were between us.”

“Go get Dean.”

Castiel startled. “What?”

“Right now. Go get him.”

“But, Sam-“

The hunter lifted himself from the bed and began to dress again. “Castiel?” His voice was still quiet, and for just an instant, it reminded him of John. “Go get my brother.”

The angel looked miserable, but he nodded. “Where did he say he was going?”

“He said he was going to the pub around the corner to pick up a hookup for the night. But I’ll put my money on him sitting alone at the bar drinking himself stupid. Go get him.”

Castiel blinked at him. Then he dressed and left the room without another word.


	3. Trust Among Brothers

Castiel couldn’t help thinking Sam looked incredibly attractive when he was about to enter a fight. The way he squared his broad shoulders with an opponent, the way his nostrils flared on that perfect, pointed nose, the way his eyes flashed and his jaw clenched, it was all beautiful power that Castiel respected and adored.

Unfortunately, it was less appealing when the anger was turned on him.

He had fetched Dean as ordered, and just as Sam had predicted, he had been sitting alone at the bar, nursing his beer in a way Castiel might have described as sulking. But he wasn’t drunk. One glance at Castiel’s miserable, guilty eyes, and he had stood and thrown several bills down for his tab, and hurried toward his once and future best friend. They stalked out of the pub and walked away at a fast clip before speaking.

It was gratifying the way Dean snapped to alertness the moment Castiel appeared looking distressed. Perhaps they had not damaged their friendship completely then.

“What’s wrong? Where’s Sam?”

“He wants to speak with us.” He could hear the dread in his own voice. Castiel had once witnessed a mother scolding her young child. He wondered if what he was feeling now was in any way similar to how that chastened child felt.

Dean frowned darkly. “Why?”

“I...may have told him about our...argument a few nights ago.”

There was the eye roll. “Dammit, Cas! That was between you and-“

“He wanted to know. I couldn’t lie to him.” They continued walking toward the hotel, but he glanced at Dean with annoyance. “Though you manage to do so with impressive frequency.” What was it that kept him sniping at Dean about Sam? It was like he was compelled to get the last word in their argument which never truly ended.

“Don’t start,” Dean shot back in warning. “You’re hardly the first stone kind of clean yourself.”

“What stone-“

“The first one!” the hunter snapped. His voice was full of exasperation. “Dude, did you ever actually read the Bible? The dude without sin can throw the first-Forget it.”

Castiel went silent. The references to scripture annoyed him too. But Dean wasn’t wrong. That was what bothered him the most. Dean wasn’t wrong at all. Castiel was not without sin, not by any stretch of imagination.

Suddenly, Dean stopped and stared at him, just before the motel room door.

He blinked.

The man’s lips quirked into a smile, and then he began to laugh.

Castiel recognized Dean’s laughter as related to exhaustion. It was practically a giggle. But he didn’t know what was funny.

He startled a little when Dean rested his hand on his arm unexpectedly. “Look at us. The Righteous Man and the Angel Of the Lord. A hardened hunter and an ancient soldier. We’ve done time in Hell and Purgatory, Heaven and Avalon-“

“You’ve been to Avalon? What was that like?”

Dean drew his hand down his face. “Long, terrible story. Doesn’t matter. Point is? We’ve faced a lot of scary-ass shit in our time. We’re the things the scary-ass creatures fear.”

Castiel’s tiny smile brightened his face. “And yet…”

“And yet, we’re going to my little brother like we’re being called in to the principal’s office.”

“Dean? Before we hear what Sam has to say...I’m very sorry.”

“Me too, buddy. I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

The angel heaved a sigh. “It wasn’t untrue.”

“Neither was what you said about me. I think…” Dean rubbed at tired eyes. “I think maybe I never really noticed when Sam…”

Castiel narrowed his gaze.

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m his big brother, you know? I’ve seen the kid through every stage of his life. And he always needed me to...I always felt like he needed me to get him through. He’s a capable fighter. A freaking genius. Twice the hunter I am some days. He’s a good man. I can know all that and still manage to see him as my kid brother.”

He waited, and lowered his gaze.

“He’s an incredible hunter, Cas, and I’ve worked with a lot of them, but he’s the first one I want at my back, you know? And-and that’s why I keep throwing him into the fight. Because I need him. The world needs him. But he’s my kid brother, so if he’s going to be a damn hero, I want to be sure I’m calling the shots to make sure he can do what he does and still wake up to do it again tomorrow. It’s not right maybe. But I’ve been thinking of it since you snapped at me, and it’s the truth. I’m the one throwing him at danger, and then I feel like I gotta make every decision for him.”

“Because he’s a strong hunter, but also your younger brother.”

The man shrugged again. “Yeah. You know? I’m so freaking proud of him in so many ways. But I can’t stop looking at that overgrown behemoth and seeing the little sass-hole who used to follow me around our whole lives.”

Castiel was nodding. Then he made a face suddenly. “Did you just…”

“Sass-hole.” Dean said it slower this time, then raised an eyebrow to challenge Castiel to comment.

The angel bit down a smirk. “I see.” His mirth faded with a sigh. “Well, perhaps the most stinging part of what you said to me was that it was something I’ve said to myself countless times. I lie with Sam sometimes after he’s fallen asleep, and I’m plagued by memories of having failed him, harmed him. I have no right to his love. You two grew up together, trained together. You are a left and a right hand. A team. If one of you makes a mistake, the other will forgive it, because you belong together. I have no such claim on him. He was grown by the time I met him.”

“Overgrown.”

He scowled. “Exactly the right amount!” he argued before he could stop himself.

Dean laughed. “Cas, you gotta stop putting him on this pedestal, you know? We’ve all screwed up. We screw up most days.”

“Sam doesn’t.”

“What show have you been watching? Dude, the point isn’t that one of us is perfect. The point is that each of us is trying. I talked to him today about Stanford, about his time away, and I tried to make myself see Sam as this independent guy, as a man capable of living his whole life without me directing him. And I couldn’t do it. But now I get that’s what I’m doing, still thinking of him as a kid. So I can make myself step back some.”

“And I never knew him before he was as strong as he is. I’ve seen him grow, seen him falter, but I’ve also seen him do things that are impossible. My Father, you and I, and other friends along the way, we assisted him. But he’s truly extraordinary. I suppose I find it difficult to imagine him…”

“Being human?” Dean offered quietly.

The angel closed his eyes briefly. “You’re right that I’ve hurt him. I think of him as unbelievably strong, but I can’t help...Dean, I could crush him in my grasp at half my power. It’s terrifying.”

“He’s strong enough, Cas. But he’s complicated, just like any of us. You and me, we may seem simpler, but we’re not. We aren’t just screw-ups, we aren’t just heroes. We aren’t perfect, and we aren’t worthless either.”

“Not hammers nor tools in a trunk.”

The soft smile on Dean’s face felt warm. “Yeah, man. The angel upper management and my dad, they treated us the way we’re treating Sammy. There was an expectation of perfection we were never going to reach. And we couldn’t be trusted to make our own decisions. We gotta just let Sam be a person. And we gotta let ourselves just be people too. We’re in charge of our own lives now, Cas. And so is he.”

Castiel nodded slowly. He was always grateful when Dean took the time to explain things to him patiently. The two of them were very similar in many ways. “We accused one another of the same things,” he said in a quiet voice.

“We’re both treating him like a kid. We both know he’s a ginormous hero. And yet we both seem to think he needs us watching over him, even though we are just as likely to make a mistake as he is.”

“I’m more so.”

Dean shook his head, and took his friend’s arm again. “No, Cas. We’re all capable of amazing strength, and we’re all capable of stupid mistakes. Sam too. Look, I’ll try if you will.”

“To just step back and see Sam as an equal partner?”

“Exactly. Acknowledge that it’s never been that way, and see if we can get there now.”

Castiel let his head tip slightly to the side. “You truly have given this a great deal of deep thought.”

Dean gave him a tired shrug. “You’re not the only one who stays up all night.”

“I don’t require sleep, Dean. You do.”

“Says you.” He sighed. “Come on. Let’s go take our medicine.”

“If you reject criticism, you harm only yourself. But if you listen to correction, you grow in understanding.”

Dean lifted an eyebrow.

“Proverbs, Dean. Because I have read scripture.”

They were snickering when they opened the door.

And there he was, beautiful and furious, the love of his long, long life. Those terrifyingly gorgeous eyes were flashing at him without mercy. He felt his own smile fade before Sam’s angry scowl.

God help him, he loved this human.

Dean’s hand went up right away. “Heya, Sammy. Wanted to chat? We can chat. No need for-“

But Sam had been seething too long. “Where the hell do you two get off, after all these years, treating me like a child? Both of you! I’m so sick of it! You yell at each other about whose responsibility it is to keep me safe! You know who is responsible for me? Me!”

Castiel felt his breath shallowing. “Sam, please. We don’t mean to-“

“I’m so sick of everything on this damn planet trying to manipulate me! Trying to make me do whatever it wants me to do! Whatever it thinks is best! You two are supposed to be the ones I can trust! But you don’t trust me!”

Dean sighed. “Sammy-“

“No! Shut up! You’re going to listen to me, because I’ve earned that! You have made it clear our whole lives that you think I’m naive and my judgement is stupid. Cas, no! You shut up too. Don’t you dare defend him. You are just as bad! You both think I’m one bad decision away from screwing us all over. I can’t be trusted because to you both, I’m still a child! But I’m telling you right now, I was more independent as a child than either of you ever were before our dad died! By the time I left college, I had been on my own more than either of you ever have!”

This stunned both Castiel and Dean into silence.

Sam let out a long breath, and calmed his temper a little. “Guys, I’m not going to pretend I haven’t messed up. But you can’t keep doing this! Dean, I love hunting. I do. I wouldn’t give it up now. I love what we do. I don’t want to ever do it without you. But you never wanted to do it without me either! So don’t pretend I’m dependent on you keeping me safe. We’re partners. We keep each other safe, and we get the job done. I patch you up, you patch me up. That’s the way a team works.”

A glance at Dean revealed a handsome face struggling between stubborn pride rankling at being shouted down, and glowing pride at the man his brother had become. He nodded. “You’re right,” he forced out. “We look out for each other. Always have. I can’t not see you as my brother, man. But I can try to see you as a real partner too.”

Sam looked surprised with the capitulation. He stared at Dean for a moment, then turned on Castiel. “And you! Quit acting like you can’t be forgiven for hurting me! I stabbed you with a freaking angel blade, dude! So did Dean!”

“Mine was the demon-killing blade.”

“Dean, shut up! Cas, I helped summon and leash Death to make him kill you!”

Castiel nodded. “I had forgotten that time,” he admitted. “I wasn’t exactly myself.”

“See? Cas, we’ve hurt each other so many times, we’ve forgotten about some of them! We forgave each other years ago! It’s time we forgive ourselves. You can’t keep acting like I’m going to break, and you can’t keep waiting for me to screw up. Guys? I can take care of myself, and I can take care of you, just like I expect-No, just like I trust that you both have my back and each other’s. It’s got to be like that. It just...it just doesn’t work any other way.”

Now Castiel and Dean were both nodding.

“We need to start fresh. Stop bringing up shit from the past, unless it’s something we can learn from or laugh about. Can we-can we make that rule? We’ve all grown up in the past decade, guys. We aren’t what we were. We’re better. It’s not fair to keep bringing up things we regret, from times before we could possibly have known better.”

The words seemed to dissolve a stone’s weight inside Castiel’s chest. “We couldn’t possibly have known better.”

Dean’s eyes sparkled suddenly, but he cleared his throat, and it disappeared. “Yeah. Mistakes we made before...We didn’t know then what we know now. Just like how Bobby shot his wife before he understood exorcism. He could’ve saved her, maybe. But he didn’t know.”

“And I don’t think he ever forgave himself for that.”

Castiel looked from one of them to the other. “He wasn’t a bad person. He just gained hindsight later in life. As we have.”

Sam shrugged. “You guys have got to give me credit for everything I’ve learned in the past ten years or so. And you have to give yourself the same break. Dean, I’m not little Sammy anymore. I’m always going to be your brother. But I deserve the same trust from you as you’ve got from me. Cas, you need to see me as-“

“As a real person,” Castiel interjected. “Because you are more than a perfect hero and more than a fragile human.”

Sam smiled at last. “Yeah. I’m no martyr, Cas. Martyrs stay dead. My job’s not over. We’ve still got work to do.”

Dean grinned. “Hell, yes, we do.”

Castiel watched his best friend and his lover exchange confident smiles, and felt humor and familiarity return to the room which had been cold, even in the Carolina heat, for too long. Relief flowed over him. He was excited for this new, fresh start they had all promised.

The angel had always thought of the goal in life as duty and faith. He still felt those things, but his loyalty had shifted to this set of brothers instead of to Heaven. It was hardly an objective now. It was instinctive.

Castiel realized then what Sam had been asking. No, things were never going to be perfect. But in that moment, at the dawn of a new dynamic, Castiel, perhaps for the first time in his whole life, felt truly content.


End file.
